


Strangers in their homelands

by Melitot



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: AU by now, Akielos, But also in love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Feels, Flash Fic, In part - Freeform, Intrigue, King Damen, Kings & Queens, Laurent Knows, Laurent being Laurent, Love, M/M, Politics, Slaves, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melitot/pseuds/Melitot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Political intrigue has a different flavour, in Akielos.</i><br/>They have defeated Kastor and Damen is king, but there is still much to do, and neither much time nor a safe court where to do it.<br/>At least they're together, not divided but united by secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers in their homelands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pennyd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyd/gifts).



> Dear pennyd, I hope you like your fic-gift :D  
> I've loved Captive Prince for years, so I was happy to receive your prompt! I usually focus more on feelings and angst, so you're getting both here, but I added some elements of intrigue as well. I wish I'd had more time to develop them and give you a longer fic, actually. Er... at least it's longer than my previous fics?
> 
> The general idea is that they fought at Charcy, but the regent managed to escape and hold a steady front in Vere; so Damen and Laurent decided to address the menace coming from behind before Kastor could truly prepare an offensive, they won and reached Ios, where Kastor and Iokaste died. And while they were doing some housecleaning and planning, Laurent decided to declare himself the rightful king of Vere (after the regent's coup, I don't think Laurent would give much weight to the 10 months separating him from majority). The fic takes place in the sort of limbo that follows, when they're quickly preparing to face the regent again.
> 
> To everyone else reading, I hope you enjoy it too. Happy holidays!!
> 
>  
> 
> Proof-read by me. Sorry, couldn't find a beta

 

 

 **P** olitical intrigue has a different flavour, in Akielos.

It's less factitious than in Vere, played on open enmity rather than dissemblance. Akielons love to be direct even in treason, it seems. Laurent has already spotted two secessionist movements and the faction of a secondary aspirant to the throne, and he's been in the palace for less than a day. Kastor really was an anomaly.

The regent loves having such merits.

Intrigue has a different flavour here, yes – but the aftertaste is the same. Laurent observes the hall without being noticed (not a small feat, considering that all eyes, descreet and not, are fixed on the exotic novelty of the foreign king.)

Discontent, greed, distrust. Danger.

A sword of Damocles always on the point of falling.

If there is something that has not changed in the least, though, it's his effect on the courtiers' lust. Whatever the sex and origins of a person, few can resist his looks. Moreover, like Damen told him not even too long ago, pale and blond in a land of sun that burns skin and darkens hair amounts to uncomparable luxury. A gold nugget in the rock. Many of the slaves he's seen at court resemble him, or try to.

But they are slaves. To conquer a king? To mount the first of the hated Veretians? That would be a triumph.

Lust of the body. Lust of vengeance.

Laurent hides a smile into his wine cup. Another's desire is something he knows how to manipulate.

And, by all the gods, he will use up to the last of his means to prevent anyone ending the work begun by Kastor. _Damianos_ will sit on that throne, will strenghten his power. And soon their kingdoms will know peace.

Finally.

 

The first week passes in a whirlwind of ceremony, introductions, remembrances and local pomp, which aim both to show Akielos' culture and to distract the people from the change of power happening in the entire paeninsula. Laurent, born in Vere's heart but grown visiting Acquitart quite often, has experienced the artistic influences of the South-East for long years. He likes Akielos' monumental but spartan taste. It's never suffocating.

He cannot say the same about the banquets, even though they are more like parties than rigid court events.

There flow too great quantities of spirits, and the mood becomes bold. Impervious to his cutting tongue. So in the evenings, after the brawl Damianos had to subdue the second day, followed by the duel that again Damianos had to arbitrate, Laurent prefers to retire before the courtiers' stares turn into direct approaches. He reaches his chambers accompanied by Jord and a few guards. Then, taking advantage of the secret exit which Damianos – Damen – has showed him the first day, he slinks out with his sword, a cloak on his head and a light.

 _Imprudence_ , a voice very alike to Damen's tells him.

The path leading to the king's chambers is short, but surprisingly tortuous. Laurent finds himself walking through the corridors in some kind of a trance.

On the pavements marble alternates with stone. Along the walls, recesses with lanterns are followed by statues, colonnades or pillars, by rings with smoky torches in the round connection hallways. Bored guards. Pensive guards. Courtiers in dark corners with slaves or other courtiers. Beyond the tall arching windows, the sea is a black expanse sending up a salty breeze and the sound of the undertow against the cliffs.

Laurent stops for a moment to stare, caught by a sensation on the threshold between horror and joy.

He's in Akielos. He's standing in Akielos' royal palace.

And the man who owns it is the man whom he hated.

_Whom he loves._

He rouses himself from the daze at the sound of voices coming in his direction. Before he reaches the portals of the regal chambers, he cuts through a service corridor, where he knows he'll find another secret entrance.

Entering is still less easy than he'd like. Damen has learned.

 

An hour later, the object of his thoughts enters the bedroom and finds him settled on his own triclinium.

"I didn't think you would try a coup d'état so soon", he says.

He closes the door. Laurent lifts his head.

"What?"

"Half of my court is terrified by your tongue. The other is ready to offer itself as a slave for your bed."

Damen seems amused. Laurent puts down the book he was reading.

"I'm sure there are also those who'd gladly take advantage of a deserted hallway to stab me."

"It's the reason why I want you to be never alone" Damen says, serious once more.

He approaches and lowers himself next to the triclinium, resting a knee on the floor. He manages to make the chair look small even like this.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

Laurent arches one eyebrow. "For example?"

"For example, trying to flush the last traitors out alone."

"I can take care of myself, _Damianos_."

"Not as much as you think."

"And I'm not so stupid as to underestimate the resentment of the Akielons." He closes the book, placing it on a little marble table. "Furthermore, there is no such thing as 'last traitors' in a court. There will always be new ones."

Damen snorts a laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, Your Highness. Point taken. Even so, please, don't lose my guards or Jord again. They're placed around your chambers for a good reason."

He half-rises, but Laurent stops him by taking hold of his arm. In the play of shadows thrown by the copper lamps, he seems a colossus sculpted in red marble. Laurent suppresses a shiver. They look at each other in silence.

"It's _Your Majesty_ , now."

The smile curving Damen's mouth is full and conscious.

"Not only for you, Laurent of Vere."

He bends forward and kisses him. Laurent wraps his arms around Damen's neck and pulls him onto the triclinium.

"I'll have to wait after I've conquered Akielos, then" he says against his mouth.

A low laugh.

"Good luck with that."

Then the weapon of words is taken away from Laurent, as it always happens when they're together this way.

 

The days go by with the purging and reorganizing of the council left by Kastor, of the Kyroi, the army. Akielos has been neglected by her last king, made too complacent by the secret alliance with Vere – something that the Regent, a good judge of character, had certainly foreseen and planned on exploiting.

The reorganization proceeds both through the legislation and the agriculture that will support phalanxes of hoplites. It's all essential to solve another urgent matter; actually, everything that's being done aims for that: defending them all from Vere.

Defeat the illegitimate king, who is planning an invasion, and restore the legitimate heir on the throne.

Laurent participates to the planning of the campaign, of course. He's observed with a mix of distrust and greed. Not everyone approves of his presence in the reign's military _sancta sanctorum_ or, even, the commitment taken to reinstate him. Prejudices are hard to die.

Maybe not unjustly.

When they're not busy with politics and economy, Damen takes him to visit the places of his childhood.

There are his mother's hanging gardens, terraced almost on the cliffs, where profusions of flowers and exotic, fragrant fruits grow. The royal stables with the hippodrome, in the interior part of the capital. The arena where the games are held yearly. The gymnasium for athletes and warriors – where, half as a joke and half as a challenge, they face each other in the sword duel before impossible for a lord and his slave. (The arrival of too many onlookers leads Damen to interrupt it. Laurent doesn't know if he's furious or relieved.)

It's... strange to visit the places where he grew up. In Laurent's mind, after Marlas, Damianos of Akielos hadn't had a childhood. He'd been born enormous and monstruous and invincible.

Almost all impressions and beliefs of the old Laurent have been blown away, by now.

The last great love of Damen's childhood is the sea. Ios' commercial districts slope down to rocky beaches that become sandy, making space for the harbour and the saltworks. Both are areas full of charm: one for the big galleys, docked among the fishing vessels like whales among dolphins; the others because of the glittering expanses of salt, which Damen has him taste. The crystal is almost as big as his fist.

"One of the great riches of Akielos" he says. The pride in his voice is evident.

"Certainly not the greatest" Laurent replies, meeting his eyes.

He accepts the crystal and looks away, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

Stupid. It's not the time to feel this way. Spies everywhere, their kingdoms at risk.

And he can well imagine what his father and brother would think, if they knew.

But, by the gods, in these moments he's drunk on the sky, the scents and smile of the king of this land.

 

At the beginning of the second week Damen's sword, thought lost, is returned by the slave who saved it from Kastor's ire the night of the betrayal. It's the sword of Damen's maturity, given to him by Theomedes when he won his first _pentathlon_.

It's the sword of Marlas.

Laurent recognizes it with a shudder. The length, the shape of the blade; the hilt. His body is invaded by the fire of rage, then by ice.

He doesn't want to see it.

He's already seeing the moment when it dealt the fatal blow, going through Auguste's chest.

It's not easy to keep his self-control. He takes a deep, discreet breath.

_You never thought it would be easy. You knew it all from the beginning._

He looks at the slave who brought the sword, instead. While on their left, surrounded by friends and busybodies, Damen weighs the weapon with hesitation, trying not to give it too much importance, the man meets Laurent's eyes.

He takes his leave with a smiling bow.

Ah. Does that mean that Laurent will be next?

A sinister promise in the sword that killed Auguste of Vere. It seems that Kastor has left a more enterprising legacy than they hoped. Helped by the regent, no doubt.

Feral days are coming.

 

That evening, Damen joins him on the monumental terrace of the palace. He stops at his side, thoughtful. His eyes chase the horizon of seagulls gliding on the breakers.

The undertow makes their words private, if not their expressions.

"They want to unearth your hate. To distance you from Akielos in the time of greatest danger."

Laurent sighs.

"They would succeed, under different circumstances." Damen turns his head to stare at him, and he looks back with frankness. "There's little to unearth. I don't love this land, for reasons you well know. I'm giving it a chance only because you're here."

And if this isn't an incautious declaration.

Damen, always blind to politics before sentiment, smiles.

"I'm glad of it. I hope to make you love it as I love it, someday. Like I learned to love Vere."

" _Vere_?"

The sunset lights Damen's teeth, transforming his gentle smile in that of a war god.

"And maybe one Veretian, too."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know your thoughts on this ♥


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